


Finding Out

by TrickyJerseyGirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Archangels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Gabriel Has Issues, Gabriel comes clean, Gabriel has friends in low places, Gabriel is Bad at Feelings, Gabriel is a Softie, Gabriel is an archangel, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Like literally low places, Overprotective Gabriel, Protective Gabriel, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sadness, Sam Is a Good Friend, Supernatural AU - Freeform, mentions of Castiel, mentions of Dean Winchester - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 09:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11964429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrickyJerseyGirl/pseuds/TrickyJerseyGirl
Summary: The truth was going to come out eventually, and now it has. He's not Loki at all-- he's the archangel Gabriel. Too bad it was someone else who told his girlfriend, Tia, the truth. Can he fix the mess he made? And does she want him to?





	Finding Out

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Gabriel Monthly Challenge Group on Facebook and Tumblr. It's also part of my ongoing Gabriel/TIa series. 
> 
> This is a long one -- 8336 words!

The moment the holy oil went out, he rushed home hoping she’d still be there, knowing damn well he was probably too late.

She was there. So was her phone. Right in front of her, on the coffee table. Judging by the grim line of her mouth, he knew he was right. He was too late.

She didn’t look up. “Hello … Gabriel.”

He fell to his knees in front of her but didn’t dare reach for her hand. “Dean called you.”

“Of course he did!”

He nodded. Dean had been the angriest. He could just imagine how Dean had told her, too.  _ I just left your fucking boyfriend. Whose name is Gabriel, by the way. Gabriel the archangel. You known how to pick 'em, don't you?  _  “What did he tell you?”

She ran a hand roughly through her hair and looked at him. “He told me everything.”

“I wanted to tell you. But I couldn’t.”

Tia nodded. “Or wouldn’t.”

“Both,” he admitted. “When things with my family weren’t as bad as they are now, it was “wouldn’t”. I was selfish. I was happy; I  _ am _ happy, and I didn’t want to jeopardize that. And then, when things got bad, it became “couldn’t”. I told you a long time ago that it would put you in danger to know my secret; that’s never been more true.”

“Right,” she said. Her voice soft, calm, and even. That scared him far more than screaming would have. “You’ve lied to me from the beginning.”

“I…” he began. She was right. But he wasn’t wrong, either. “My name,” he finally said. “I never told you my real name.”

“You lied to me about what you were.”

“No,” he said. “I never did that.”

Now she looked at him and he almost backed away from the anger on her face. “You said you were a demigod …”

“I didn’t!” Interrupting her was probably not wise, but he needed to do it before it was too late. “I never did. You did. Other people did. I called myself a trickster, and that was the truth. When I assumed that identity, I assumed the role. But I never called myself a god, and I never outright lied to you. Everything I have ever told you about my past is true. Every question you ever asked me, I told you the truth.”

She was furious; he could see it. But he could also tell some part of her knew that what he said was true. It wasn’t helpful; if anything, it only fueled her fury, making her wonder how she could have been so blind, so stupid. “You weren’t,” he blurted.

Her eyes narrowed and she leaned toward him. “I was not what?” she hissed.

What he was about to do was a huge mistake, but he blurted it out anyway. “Stupid,” he said. “Blind. I didn’t read your mind,” he hastened to add as her expression darkened. "When you’re angry, your walls come down, and I can hear your thoughts, because you lose some of your control. You’re angry--you should be--but you couldn’t have known; I made certain of that. Without Castiel, Sam and Dean would never have known, either.”

She poked him hard in the chest. “You had better be goddamn grateful that I have  _ some  _ control right now.” She got up from the couch and began pacing.

He got up and sat in a chair, trying to decide what to apologize for first. “About the Winchesters...”

She barked a harsh laugh. “Oh, I can’t  _ wait _ to hear this.”

“In the beginning, I didn't know who they were to you. I only found out recently; you only told me that your hunters were  _ those _ hunters last week. And what I did this time....I thought I was doing the right thing. I was wrong.” He took a deep breath. “What’s going on right now is bad. It’s so bad, Gigi…”

She held up her hand. “You do not get to call me that right now.”

He swallowed. “Right. Of course.” 

She opened her mouth and he readied himself for the screaming to begin. But instead, she closed her eyes, clenched her fists, and said, “I need a minute.” She opened her eyes and walked out of the house.

Gabriel waited. The sounds of breaking wood and glass came from outside; she was apparently destroying the old windows they had taken off the house a week before. He was fine with that. At least she hadn’t progressed to trying the same with his bones, though if she did, he would let her. It was the least he deserved. 

She came back in, picked up her phone, and said, “Stay here.” She didn’t look at him. She just walked into the kitchen.

She returned nearly an hour later and tossed the phone back onto the coffee table. She stood with her hands on her hips, staring down at him. “Everyone is furious with you,” she said. “I am livid.”

“But?” he asked.

She sat down on the couch. “I talked to my uncle,” she said. “I talked to Sam, I talked to Dean. I talked to Castiel, who says he is your brother, and my god, is he pissed at you! But the one thing everyone seems to agree on is that you never technically lied. As far as we know.”

“I didn’t,” he said. “I can’t.”

“You told me you were Loki,” she snapped.

“I said they call me Loki,” he said. “It’s a small differentiation and it doesn’t make what I did any less shitty, I know that. But I never said, ‘My name is Loki,’ not to you, not to anyone. The name became associated with me a long time ago. I just never corrected anyone. I needed a name, and I was a trickster.”

“And the real Loki?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” he said. “First time I came across another Norse god, I thought for sure I was screwed. But they bought it. Loki was known to change his appearance. So they must have assumed and I let them.”

“Like you let me.”

“Yes.”

“I have been calling you by the wrong name and thinking of you as the wrong … thing for over a year! How much else has been wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I hid nothing else from you. My personality, my  _ self _ , that’s all me, Gi...Tia.” That hurt. He couldn’t remember the last time he had called her Tia. She’d been Gigi since the night they met. “Call the boys back. Ask my brother. I’m sure he’ll be happy to tell you everything he knows about me.”

“What happened to putting people in danger if they knew?” she asked.

“Everyone is already in danger,” he said. “The Winchesters broke the world, remember? I have nothing to lose, except you. So I have to stop hiding, and help your two idiot pseudo-brothers try to save the world, because you’re in it.”

“And because it’s the right thing to do,” she reminded him.

He shrugged. “Just a bonus.” He meant it. That might make him the most selfish creature in the universe, and he knew it, but he didn’t care. It suddenly occurred to him that he was thinking exactly like a Winchester, ready to burn the world down as long as it meant standing next to the person he loved. It was so absurd and yet so true that he laughed.

She looked at him. “What is wrong with you?”

“Hysterics. I think I’m actually hysterical,” he said grimly, standing up. “Can I have your phone, please?”

“Why?”

“Because I need to make the first of several apologies.” He held out his hand. “Please.”

When she handed over the phone, he dialed then hit speaker. When Sam Winchester answered, Gabriel spoke quickly. “It’s Gabriel. I’m sorry, Sam.”

“Gabr.. what? Did something happen to Tia? If she’s hurt, Gabriel...”

“I’m here, I’m fine,” Tia called out. “Pissed as all get out, but fine.”

“Mystery Spot, Sam,” Gabriel said. “All the Tuesdays. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what it was like, then. I thought I was teaching you something. I was wrong. I didn’t realize your weak spot is actually the thing that keeps you strong. And I’m sorry. That goes to Dean, too.”

“Gabriel, what are you...”

Tia snatched the phone back. “I’ll call you in a little while. Bye, Sam.” She ended the call. “What was that?”

“Exactly what I told him it was,” Gabriel said. “I thought Sam was wrong, with what he was putting himself through for Dean. I didn’t understand. I understand now. It’s different, but it’s the same. Whatever happens, whatever you decide, I understand what it means to love someone enough to risk the world.”

She let her breath out in a huff. “This does not mean you are forgiven.”

“I know.” He stepped a little closer to her. “But can I be? Whatever it takes, I’ll do it. Bind me with angel wards and holy fire; the boys know how to do it. Ask me anything. I have told you it all but I will tell you a thousand times more if I have to, under whatever circumstances you need to assure you that I am telling you the truth. And here’s another truth, for whatever you think it’s worth to you--I love you like I have never loved anyone, mortal or immortal, in my long life. That’s what I meant in my apology to Sam.” 

He reached out a hand touch her face. She stepped away, shaking her head, and Gabriel felt like someone kicked him in the sternum. 

“No,” she said. “You lied to me. And to everyone else, but I really don’t care much about that right now, though I probably will later. I can’t even begin to think about all the shit you put my boys through, which is something else we will be getting to later. But this… you and me…” She shook her head again, then sniffed and cleared her throat. “No. I can’t.”

Gabriel sat down on the couch. “Tell me what to do.”

She sat in a chair opposite him. “I don’t know.”

The silence was oppressive. Smothering. His head was spinning with a million things to say, to try, but none of it seemed right. All of it just wasn’t enough; all of it, though true, was woefully inadequate. And he knew it was time. Shit, it was past time. It had been a year, last month -- a year since the first night he saw her, met her, helped her kill an incubus, and kissed her for an hour outside her front door. A year of falling madly in love with her like nothing and no one ever before, a year of realizing this was it, really it, this was the person -- the human, for Dad’s sake -- for all time. Except for that one thing, that one stupid, selfish thing. 

He’d had his reasons. Most of them were pretty damn good reasons, actually, not the least of which being the danger it would put her in. He had been feeling the balance of things shifting; he knew it was only a matter of time before his family let loose with everything they had. Only a matter of time before they found him, which would mean they would find her, and they could use her as leverage or a hostage or worse. So he had tried to keep hiding, hiding himself and her and keep buying time to keep her safe. Good reasons. 

There was only one reason to tell her, really. But it was the biggest reason, and the best, and it was time, and as horrible as this was right now, as horrible as it might get, he was grateful to the Winchesters for figuring it out and for forcing his hand. Now if only he could find someone to help him plead his case, to help show her he was telling her the real, absolute truth…

His head snapped up. “Call Cecile.”

“What?”

“Cecile,” he repeated. “Call her. Tell her she needs to come over, now. Tell her to bring the Enochian book.”

Her brow furrowed. “The what?”

“She’ll know what I mean.” He stood up. “Trust me, please. Just one more time. Just do it. OK?”

Tia had been a hunter for a long time, and he hoped she’d roll with the weird, like she always did. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when she nodded.”All right. But you’d better get the rum ready.” 

***

Cecile Montplaiser was there in less than 20 minutes. She was a gifted psychic, a powerful mambo, and the single most suspicious woman he’d ever known. When she walked into the house, she rounded on him before even saying hello to Tia. “How did you even know about the book?”

“I know a lot of things,” he said, handing her a bottle of strong, dark rum. “And in a little while, I will answer any question you have. Both of you.” He glanced at Tia, who looked worried, then back at Cecile. “Mambo, when we first met, you said your oath would hold me. You’re right. And now I need you to do it. But first, you have to ward the house and for that you need the book.”

“What is this book?” Tia said, coming forward and grabbing the bottle of rum, from which she took a healthy swig. 

Cecile looked at her. “Old magic,” she said. “Angel magic. Not even the loa can break it.” 

The mambo turned back to him. “You know what you are asking me to do.”

He nodded. “I do. Just… one sec.” He swallowed hard and looked at Tia. “I don’t deserve it, and I know it. But please. You trust Cecile.”

She sighed, but nodded and sat. “OK.”

Gabriel turned back to Cecile and held out his hand, palm up. “Go ahead.”

Cecile muttered some Creole, then took a sharp knife from her pocket and cut open his hand. She caught the blood in a bowl she had brought with her, mixed in some rum and some gris-gris from her pocket. She soaked a pure white cloth in the mixture and did what she needed to do to ward the house and the people in it. She took what was left of the blood and smeared some on her own forehead and then on Tia’s. He was grateful to see that Tia didn’t shrink from it.  _ That’s my girl _ , he thought, and there went that pain in his chest again.

“Eyes on me,” Cecile snapped, and he did as he was told. “By your blood I bind you.” She cut her own hand and placed her palm against his. “By my blood I hold you. Reveal yourself. There is nothing you can hide.”

He leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “Thank you,” he said. “Step back. Now.”

He waited until she stepped away from him, closer to Tia. Then he shut his eyes, leaned back his head, and let it happen.

He felt the glow first, the warmth that started in his chest and slowly moved through his entire body, He gasped from the feel of it; it had been so long and he forgot how good it was. He breathed deeply, opening his arms wide and rolling his shoulders back when he felt the weight there, pulling on muscles he hadn’t used in a very long time. He let the feeling build, let the grace fill him, and then, he opened his wings.

He heard the sound of glass breaking and Cecile curse, “ _ Manman Bondye _ !” He opened his eyes.

Tia had dropped the rum bottle. “Jesus,“ she gasped. “Jesus Christ.”

Cecile gripped Tia’s arm tightly. “Your trickster isn’t a trickster at all.”

“Not true,” he said. “I’ve been a trickster for a long, long time. I’m good at it. I like it. But it’s past time to come clean.”

“Archangel,” Cecile said, her eyes wide with something like fear. 

“Asshole Archangel,” Tia said, helping Cecile to sit. When Cecile’s head snapped around to stare at her in disbelief, Tia continued, “I only just found out. This son of a bitch lied to me, so forgive me if I’m not getting down on my knees in shock and wonder, because I am too damn mad right now.”

She looked back at Gabriel. “And you can put those things away. They are distracting as hell and I don’t need any distractions right now.”

He did as she asked and sat in a chair a short distance away from her. “Gigi, I…”

“Shut up.”

Cecile gave it a shot. “ _ Petit chasseur _ …”

“You can shut your mouth too,” Tia snapped. She closed her eyes, clenched her fists, and said, “I need a minute.” She opened her eyes and walked into the kitchen.

Gabriel waited. From the sounds he heard, Tia was destroying the kitchen. That was good. She was still in the house. Anything that kept her in the house was fine, as far as he was concerned. 

Cecile looked at him. “This is not going well.”

“She hasn’t left,” he said. “That’s better than I expected.” He snapped his fingers. The broken glass was gone and a new rum bottle appeared. “You’ll be sharing that.”

“Since I don’t often get to drink with an archangel, I will be happy to.” She opened the bottle and offered it to him.

He took it with a small smile. “There are worse drinking partners than an archangel. Something you seem to be taking in stride.”

Cecile shrugged. “I always knew there was something. Not this, but now it is this. It, like many things, simply is. So  _ mwen woule _ . Like we all must.”

“ I owe you for this, Cecile. No matter what happens. Or how many rooms she destroys.”

“She is angry.” Cecile accepted the bottle back from him. “She has a right to be.’   


“She does.”

Tia came back in and looked at him. “Do not leave this room,” she said. “We are not done.”

That was good. Not done was good. Fuck, not done was great. “Okay.”

“Cecile, come with me. Bring the goddamn bottle.” The two women walked back into the kitchen.

They returned nearly an hour later. Cecile sat, and Tia stood before him with her hands on her hips, staring down at him. “I am absolutely furious with you,” she said.

“But?” he asked.

She sat down on the couch. “Cecile and I talked. Well, I cursed. She talked.” she said. “She tried to convince me that you never technically lied to me.”

“I didn’t,” he said. “I can’t.”

There were a few long moments of silence until finally she said, “Start from the beginning. Tell me everything. Nothing left out. No sins of omission. Everything, Lo.. Gabriel. Everything.”

So he did. He told her every single bit of it. Heaven and why he left. How he hid, how he adapted. All the years, all the places. How much he missed his family and how long he stayed angry at them. The times he ran into other angels who were hiding on earth and how he kept his true identity from them. All the beings he’d known, all the humans he lived, fought, and loved amongst. Every place he ever lived all through the centuries of civilization, and everything he’d ever done. Who and what he had been, how that had changed from the moment he met her and how unbelievably happy that had made him. Then he told her about all the doubts that had been clouding his mind over the past year, as he felt Heaven and Hell shifting and the balances of power changing for the worse, the angels changing for the worse, the fear of his family coming to blood and blows again, and again not knowing how to stop it. His worries about her. His love for her. And his absolute terror over putting her in danger. 

A little more than two hours had passed by the time he finished. “Is that everything?” she asked.

“And the wings, yes,” he said. “I’ve, uh, I’ve never shown them to a human before.”

She sighed. “Let me see them again.”

He got up and moved back to where he had stood originally, away from the furniture, and unfurled his great, golden wings. He flexed them gently a few times so she could see how they moved. 

She stood up slowly, then walked closer to him. “Can I touch them?”

“Please don’t,” he said. “You’re going to leave me, and that’s going to be hard enough without the memory of your hands on my wings.”

She looked at him, her brow furrowed. “Oh, you think you’re getting off that easy?” she asked. “Let me touch them. I need to know they’re real.”

“Wait, what?” He was confused and trying not to be hopeful. “You’re … you’re not leaving?”

“Shut up.” She walked behind him, running her hand gently over his feathers and finding the spot where they rooted into his back. “Why didn’t they tear through your shirt?”

“I have no idea,” he said honestly. “One of Dad’s little magic tricks, I suppose.”

“Dad,” she repeated. “Meaning God.  _ Putain, c’est fou. _ ” 

He felt her put her hand over the root of his wing and tug hard. He grunted. “That’s attached, Geeg.” She tugged again, harder. He hissed out a breath. “Ok, yeah, I deserved that.”

“That’s the least of what you deserve. Put them away.” She came around to sit on the couch again. “Cecile, I think you should go home.”

The mambo looked at them both. “Are you sure, girl?”

“We need to talk,” Tia said. “Privately. Release him from whatever you did. Take down the wards.”

“Don’t take down the wards,” Gabriel said. “Not yet. I’ll do it later. And don’t release me.”

“Why not?” Tia asked.

“Because I want you to know that I am still bound,” he said. “That there is no possible way I can hide anything from you.”

She sighed. “Fine. Cecile, I’ll call you when I need you.”

Cecile nodded, stood up, then leant down to kiss Tia on both cheeks. She rested her hand lightly on Tia’s face. “Remember what I said.”

Tia nodded. “I will.”

Gabriel walked Cecile to the door. “What did you say to her?”

“None of your business,” Cecile said. She gave him a steady look. “You love her.”

“I do,” he said. 

She kissed both his cheeks. “Trust that. And don’t be stupid again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He closed the door and walked back to the living room. He sat and waited for Tia to speak.

It took a few minutes, but then she finally did. “I don’t know what’s true anymore,” she said. “And I don’t know who you are. I thought I did, and then Dean called me and told me the truth. Dean, who I haven’t seen in months. Not you, who I wake up with every morning and sleep beside every night. Dean told me what you kept hidden from me, and now I have to wonder what else there is. What else I don’t know?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I swear it. It’s why I wanted Cecile here. She knew I was hiding something when we first met. She’d know if I still was. You trust her. Did she tell you I was telling the truth?”

“She did,” Tia said. “What happened to putting people in danger if they knew?”

“It wasn’t fair to keep you in the dark,” he said. “And I needed Cecile to help prove things to you. The danger is there. I’m a fugitive from heaven and things up there are not in great shape. The time may come when I have to stop hiding from everyone; I don’t know yet. But it’s past time to stop hiding from you. I have no idea if you can forgive me for this. But I will do all I can if there is even the slightest chance. Whatever it takes, I will do it. Bind me with angel wards and holy fire; it’s all in the book Cecile left. Ask me anything. I have told you it all but I will tell you a thousand times more if I have to, under whatever circumstances you need to assure you that I am telling you the truth. I love you, and I am sorry, and I will never keep anything from you again. So please, tell me what to do to fix this.”

“Cecile…” Tia sighed, made a vague notion with her hand, then tried again. “Cecile told me the oath, the binding, was unbreakable. That you couldn't get around it. That you had to be telling the truth.”

“She’s right,” he said. “She’s strong enough to hold me to my word without the book, but I wanted there to be no question. No loopholes.”

“I don't know what to do with this, Loki...Gabriel. Damnit!” She kicked the coffee table in frustration.

“Call me whatever you want,” he said. “It doesn't matter to me.”

“It matters to me!” She got up and began pacing again. “Don't you understand? Loki is the name I used when I told you I was in love with you. It's the name I say when we make love. It's the name of the man who means everything to me, and now I find out it's the wrong name. What am I supposed to do with that?”

He got up and put his hands on her shoulders, making her stand still. “You're supposed to remember that you didn't fall in love with a name. That you don't make love with a name. That the one who means so much to you is me. Regardless of what you or anyone else calls me. It's just me. Your name is Tia, but when do I ever call you that? Names don’t change who you are, who I am, who  _ we  _ are. They’re just names.”

She blinked tears out of her eyes and sniffed hard. “That's what Cecile said.”

“I always liked her,” he said. He swallowed and gripped her shoulders a little harder. “Please, Gigi. I will do anything. You can't…” He swallowed again, and his voice shook when he spoke. “I am thousands and thousands of years old. I have been hiding for longer than you can imagine. You can't comprehend how long I have waited to tell somebody who I am, to show them who I am. But I never did. I never thought I could trust anyone with that secret. Until now. Until you. So when I say I will do whatever it takes to make this up to you, I mean it, because I have been waiting for you for millennia.”

For a brief moment, her expression softened and her eyes again filled with tears. But then that hard look returned and she shook herself out of his grip, backing away. “Jesus Christ, I can’t deal with you right now,” she said in a harsh whisper, her voice threatening to break. “I need to think. I can’t do that here. I can’t do that with you near me.”

“I understand.” He did, though it was killing him. “Do you want me to go?”

“I’m going,” she said. “You will stay here. You will wait, in this house, and you will not go anywhere.”

He nodded, his face solemn. “For as long as it takes. Where are you going?”

She gathered her coat and her keys. “I don’t know.”

“Right.” He stopped himself from asking when she’d be back, or who she was going to see, or what she was going to do, or any one of the other dozen questions that crossed his mind. He stopped himself from saying  _ Be careful _ , or worse yet,  _ I love you _ , like he had done every other time she walked out the door to go somewhere, every other time the slamming of the front door didn’t hit him like a punch in the stomach. 

When he got his breath back, Gabriel spent a few minutes picking up the living room. He did it manually, without magic. He put away the rum bottle and vacuumed the spot where the other one had broken, just in case. He fixed the pillows on the couch and all the chairs. Then he poured himself a large glass of whiskey, sat before the fire, and began to wait.

***

She was gone for almost three days. It was the longest 68 hours, 42 minutes, and 17 seconds of his life. The first day wasn’t bad. It had been almost bearable, really--he just kept reminding himself that she’d be back. She’d been away for a day, even a few days, before, usually when hunting. Of course, then he was able to keep track of her, be there if she needed him, one quick snap and they'd be together. That wasn’t possible this time, he knew. He had to respect her distance, her need for time, even if it was driving him completely out of his immortal mind. So he wandered around the house, fixing things that needed repair, attacking projects she’d been after him about, and generally making sure the house was perfect for when she returned to it. He would not allow himself to think  _ if _ she returned to it. He couldn’t.

He ran out of things to do around nine the next morning. Guilt and anger had set in pretty strong by then, so he destroyed a few things--more than a few things, really--and then fixed them again. That took him until just after dusk, at which point he turned to alcohol. His stuff, the hidden stuff he never shared with mortals because it would kill them. Viking  _ blod mjød _ . Haitian  _ kleren _ . An old bottle of  _ amrita _ Kali had given him. He discovered he was completely out of ambrosia and suddenly didn’t want anything else, so he decided to visit an old friend who’d have some.

It took him a few tries to get where he was going. There are a lot of vaguely questionable nightclubs called “The Underworld,” as it turned out, and he ended up in a few of them before he landed in the actual Underworld, face-down and almost in a pile of dog shit. “Dad-damnit, Cerebus,” he muttered as he got himself upright. “Bad dog.”

The beast in question whined at the end of its chain, pawing the ground as it tried to get to its favorite archangel. The dog was the reason Gabriel had never hidden who he was from Hades--Cerebus could sniff out an imposter better and faster than any hellhound. 

“You’re drunk, Gabriel,” Hades said as he walked out of the shadows. “Why can’t you pester Bacchus on these occasions?”

“I like your dog better than Bacchus’ guardians,” Gabriel said, trying to dust himself off. The black sand of the underworld was like glitter--it got everywhere and it was impossible to remove.

“Yes, the  _ Bacchae _ can be difficult, and you have the smell of a scorned woman on you.” Hades’ nose rivaled that of his dog. “They’d have torn you to shreds. Come inside, then.”

“Do you have ambrosia?”

“Not that you need it, but yes.” Hades indicated a passage in a craggy wall. “I can’t wait to hear what you’ve done this time.”

“I like you better when Persy.. Perfso.. Perseffeee.. your wife is around,” Gabriel muttered as he passed the god.

“Then I suggest you confine your romantic problems to the winter months,” Hades responded. As they both sat down, he said, “Now how can I be of assistance to an archangel, other than by offering him more alcohol?” He waved a hand and full glasses appeared for them both.

Gabriel picked it up and sipped. His eyes closed in brief delight. “That is the good stuff. Thank you. And yes, I am having romantic troubles. In fact I am having the mother of all romantic problems, at least for me, and I am going out of my mind with worry and impatience and anxiety and fear. I am pretty sure that I have fucked up monumentally, and you’ve known me for a long time so you should know exactly how bad that means I fucked up. So be a pal and either distract me or get me drunk enough to pass out, or I am going to start mainlining the River Lethe.”

“If only I had learned the trick to getting you drunk enough to pass out. Alas, that magic still eludes me.” Hades sipped his own ambrosia, utterly unperturbed. “And the river doesn’t work on immortals. Might I suggest feeding her pomegranate seeds? It worked for me.”

“Only because she was in on it the whole time,” Gabriel said. “How is the beautiful Persephone?”

“Persa is with her mother,” Hades said. His stern countenance softened, just a bit. “She returns to me in a month, and we will celebrate our marriage on Haloa. You would be welcome there.”

“If all goes well, I won’t be able to attend because my date isn’t allowed here.” He gave Hades a meaningful look. “She’s mortal. Human.”

Hades almost choked on his ambrosia. “ _ Pósa kilá malákas íse _ ?” 

“About a million kilos of asshole, thanks for asking.” Gabriel lifted his glass. “More please.”

“You’ve had enough.” Hades waved his hand again and a steaming mug appeared before Gabriel. “Drink it. The Underworld isn’t kind to drunkards, even angelic ones, and I have no desire to untangle you from the _ cerastes _ again.”

“In my defense, I thought they were worms,” Gabriel said.

“Because trying to fish the river Styx was such a wise decision in the first place,” Hades snapped. “Drink your coffee.”

“Definitely more fun when Persa is around.”

There was silence as Gabriel drank his coffee. Hades drummed his fingers for a bit, then said, “Persa would ask if you wanted to talk about it. She is kind. I am not. So I will ask what you did to create the problem instead.”

Gabriel sighed. “She found out what I was. Who I was. I hadn’t told her. I had been trying to figure out how to tell her. I wanted to tell her. It was time to tell her. But … circumstances beat me to it.”

“Circumstances being the battle between your brothers raising its nasty little head again?” Hades asked. “I wondered when that would become a problem for you.”

“Yeah.” Gabriel sighed again then ran his hand down his face. “I’ve never seen her so angry, so upset. I tried to explain, I told her everything and made sure she believed me -- I bound myself, made it impossible to lie.”

“Wise,” Hades nodded. “Did it work?”

“She believed me, if that’s what you mean.” He looked into the depths of his coffee cup. “But she still left.”

There was another long silence. Then Hades said, “It’s a difficult business, loving mortals. I have watched my family do it for millennia. Sometimes it ends well. Sometimes it ends badly. Have you come to an end, Gabriel?”

“I don’t want to have,” he said. “I was prepared to tell her. I was prepared to do a lot of things, but first, I had to tell her. After that, I could figure out how to hide us both. Unfortunately, somebody else got to the truth of it before I could tell her."

"Has it never occurred to you that  _ that  _ is the problem?” Hades asked. 

“What, that her pseudo-brothers are huge, troublesome pains in my ass? Yeah, all the time.”

Hades heaved an Olympian sigh before speaking. “No. Try again.”

Gabriel thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Nope. Not following you, big guy.”

“Gabriel, the last time I saw you, you were looking for a place to -- and I quote -- ‘lay low’ while waiting for Kali to get past her anger over the end of your rather tumultuous relationship. The time before that, you were trying to avoid Thor -- something about insults at the family dinner table, as I recall. Before that, it was avoiding other angels. And all because you always know best; you always know what to hide and what to reveal, especially yourself. All that bravado, all those witty comebacks, just to hide how terrified you really are. Terrified to stand up to your family. Your friends. And especially to the anger of every woman you have ever loved. So much easier to run and hide, and tell yourself that it’s best to keep secrets because, after all, Gabriel always knows best. Tell me, my old and ridiculous friend, how is that working out for you this time?” 

“This time is different,” Gabriel protested. “I had good reasons, valid reasons for doing what I did…”

Hades rolled his eyes. “You always do, don’t you? So many good, valid reasons. So many excuses. It’s really no wonder that you spent centuries as a trickster. You’ve been tricking yourself for millennia.”

Gabriel blinked twice. “It’s me,” he said in a shocked voice. “You’re right. I've done this to myself; I've done it over and over again. I did it to my brothers and sisters in Heaven. To the Norse gods. To Kali. I've hidden myself every time, from everything. Everyone. This is my fault. It has to stop. I have to stop.” He swallowed, then said in a thick voice, “Whatever she decides, at least I'll know that I've stopped running. I’ve stopped hiding. I really wish I could just tell her that, though. Thank her for it. Tell her how my life consisted of bad puns and candy and endless running, until she changed it.”

“Why can’t you, archangel?” the god asked. “You have the power to do it. To find her, to go to her. Tell her. You can show her, surely, even if you don’t see her.  What is there to lose?”

“She asked me to leave her alone,” Gabriel began.

Hades held up one long, pale finger. “Did she?”

Gabriel blinked. “She … she didn’t. She said she needed time to think, and that she couldn’t do that with me around, so she left.” He ran a hand down his face and almost chuckled. “She also told me not to leave the house. Guess I fucked that up.”

“Not the first time, and not, I’d wager, last.” Hades stood up. “As always, Gabriel, it has been a unique pleasure. Shall I walk you out?”

“I can make it on my own.” He reached out his hand. “Next time you find yourself on the mortal plane …”

“I’ll suspect I am sorely lost,” Hades said as he shook the archangel’s hand. “But I will tell Persa that you send your love.”

“That I do,” Gabriel said. “Thanks, old friend.”

****

The house was still empty. He hadn’t really been expecting anything else, but it was going on three days now. Being there without her was torturous, because everything in the damn place reminded him her. Which was insane, really--the house was almost 150 years old and he’d bought it the moment it was finished being built. He had lived there, on and off, for more than a century. But that didn’t matter anymore. She’d moved in four months ago, and it became their house. He’d never be able to think of it as anything but, ever again.

He wouldn’t go to her, or even call her. Doing either of those things felt like an invasion of the time she needed, and he didn’t want to make her angrier or do anything that might keep her from coming back. But he couldn’t just sit there, He needed her to know he was there. That he was waiting. And that he was desperately, entirely sorry and wanted her to come home. 

He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind. He found her in a bar, phone in hand, text screen up. He couldn’t keep himself from looking.

> TIA: I don’t know how to trust him again. 
> 
> SAM: Do you want to?
> 
> TIA: Yes. Does that make me an idiot?
> 
> SAM: You’re asking the wrong idiot. Or haven’t you met me and my brother?
> 
> TIA: How do you do it? And how are you not angrier about this?
> 
> SAM: Because I've been in his shoes. I've done horrible things for what I thought were the right reasons. I believe he was going to tell you the truth in his own time; he just thought he was protecting you. Can you blame him? He loves you like crazy, T. That's probably what kept Dean and I from killing him when we had the chance. Even archangels can change. I believe that. Can you?

Gabriel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He was going to have to kiss Sam Winchester’s ass for a long, long time. Maybe buy him a car. Or twelve cars. Shit, if this worked, he’d buy Sam whatever he wanted. Whatever that was; that kid was hard to figure out. Now Dean was easy: triplets and pie. But Sam? Well, he'd give it some thought. Later. There were far more important people to apologize to right now. The most important, actually.

First, he gave the bartender’s mind a gentle little poke, resulting in a glass of Tia’s favorite Cabernet being poured and placed in front of her. When Tia looked up, confused, the bartender said, “Bottle got delivered here instead of the restaurant next door. Enjoy it.”

He watched her pick up the glass, swirl it a little, then sip. She recognized it immediately and pushed the glass away, “Whiskey,” she said. “I’ll stick with whiskey.”

That hadn’t worked. Time for option two. There was a flower seller in the bar--probably a homeless person trying to make a few extra bucks. Gabriel found the most annoying person in the bar, a drunk frat boy who was destined to find himself on the wrong end of a pool cue if he kept mouthing off to the regulars, and gave him a little poke. The next thing the kid knew, he was handing twenties to the flower seller and telling him to give flowers to everybody. 

The seller dropped a small handful of flowers on the bar in front of it. By pure chance, the flowers included a stem of fragrant orchids--a favorite of Tia’s. Gabriel held his breath again.

He watched as she stared at the flowers, then reach out a hand to gently stoke some of the flower petals. She bit her lip and blinked rapidly, but she didn’t push the flowers away or throw them to the ground. Instead, she pulled out the orchid and held it up to her face, breathing deeply and letting silent tears fall.

When he exhaled, he choked on a sob. Dad-damnit all. Might as well go for broke. With a silent prayer, he found the jukebox in the back of the bar and made it play.

It took her a minute to hear the music playing, and another to recognize what it was. Once she did, her hand went to her mouth to cover it, and Gabriel knew that this was going to put an end to his waiting, for better or for worse. 

> _ Day one, and we've just begun / Living lives that are miles apart / Breathe in, and let this begin, / I won't stop this before it can start... _

He watched her reach for her drink with a shaking hand, and he gasped aloud when she choked briefly, sputtering whiskey as she coughed. She waved off the concerned bartender, took a deep breath, and swallowed the rest of the liquid in the glass. 

> _ Day two, and all I can do / Is to dream about you coming home. / Breathe out, I don't want to doubt this / But know that my hopes are hung low. _

She was shaking. No, she was  _ shaken _ , he realized with a start, and that realization almost broke him. He’d never seen her like that, and it was his fault and it cut him to the core. Emotions were running high on both sides, and it made the tenuous psychic connection he had with her briefly more powerful, as both their defenses fell. The strength of her emotions washed over him--anger, pain, sadness, and, underneath all of it, a love so deep he felt like he could drown in it. He wanted to.

> _ Day three, are you missing me / The same way I'm aching for you... _

It had to stop. He broke the connection just in time, just before he lost the little control he had left and hit her with all he was feeling. He fell back against the couch, his face wet with tears. He put his head in his hands.

When the phone rang seconds later, he yelped aloud and it took him a second to realize what it was--Dean Martin singing “Gigi.” He’d downloaded the ringtone the day after they met. He reached for the phone so fast, he fell off the couch. 

She spoke before he could. “You are a son of a bitch.”

He closed his eyes. He’d never felt such relief in his life. “I know. Please come home.”

“Fine. But I can’t drive.”

His heart was pounding. “I could…”

“I said fine, didn’t I?” she snapped. “Just do it.”

He did it. Immediately. And rooted himself to the spot as soon as she appeared in the living room, fighting the almost overwhelming impulse to fall to his knees in front of her and beg for another chance. 

He spoke quickly. “Wait. Please. Two things and then I will shut the hell up. I left the house to see an old friend, and when I found you in the bar, I saw Sam’s messages. Just the ones that were on the screen, I swear. I said I would never hide anything from you again, so, uh, there you go.”

She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, then finally said, “All right. Are you still bound?”

He nodded. “You can call Cecile if you like. I don’t expect you to just take my word for it.”

“I’m a little tired of talking to Cecile right now,” she said. “But last time I talked to her, she said she hadn’t been here. I just wanted to see what you’d say.”

“Of course.” 

There was an uncomfortable silence, which they both broke at the same time.

“Tia, I…”

“Gabriel, I…”

They both stopped and he almost smiled. “You called me Gabriel,” he said.

She sighed, but she gave him a look that was so damn Gigi, he thought his heart would burst. “I did. And you called me Tia.” She sat down in an armchair. “I suppose I have to get used to one of those things. I don’t particularly want to get used to the other, though.”

He sat on the couch, across from her. His mouth was dry when he tried to speak; he snapped up some water to drink and tried again. “Which is which?”

“Well, your damn name is Gabriel, isn’t it?” 

That was it. It was all he could take. He walked over to her, knelt, and put his forehead to her knees. “I’m so sorry, Gigi. I was going to tell you, I swear to Dad, I was. But I didn’t know how, and I was so damn terrified.” He looked up at her. “Please let me fix this.”

She touched her fingertips to his face. “When I was a little girl, they told me to pray to the angel Gabriel. That he would protect me. Take care of me. You’re real big with those Cajun Catholics. But I don’t think this is what they meant.”

“I never heard you pray,” he said. “I never heard anybody pray, once I left Heaven. I shut it off. I still haven’t turned it back on. Do you want me to?”

“What’s it like?” she asked. 

She hadn’t taken back her hand. Now, she was slowly stroking his hair and it was all he could do not to lean into her touch. “Noisy,” he said. “It’s hard to differentiate between the voices.”

“I know what that’s like,” she said. 

“I know you do.” He rested his hands on her knees. “I love you.”

“I know you do.” She touched his face again, then let her hand fall and sighed. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Whatever you need to do.” It killed him to say that--he wanted to say  _ Stay, love me, forgive me. _

She almost laughed. “I heard that,” she said. “And...I want to. But I am so angry, Lo...Gabriel.”

“You should be,” he said. “I deserve it. I didn’t want to lie to you. I didn’t want to hurt you. I just wanted to keep you safe. I was wrong, but that’s what I wanted. The idea of something happening to you that’s my fault…” His voice trailed off and he looked down. “I couldn’t bear it. It was selfish, and I know it. I thought I was protecting you. I didn’t think about protecting us. And I should have.” 

“Yes, you damn well should have, Mr. Archangel,” she said. “You didn’t trust me.”

“No, baby,” he said. “It was never you that I didn’t trust.” He put his head against her knees again, tears falling. “I’m sorry, Gigi. I am so damn sorry.”

“Oh, you are an idiot angel,” she said, her own voice cracking. She stood up and pulled him up with her, and then she was in his arms and his face was buried in her hair. “Did he make all the archangels this stupid or just you?”

“Depends who you ask,” he said. He tightened his grip on her. “But most of them would probably claim it’s just me.”

“I will agree with them,” she said, and this time she did laugh, and so did he. 

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Translations: 
> 
> Manman Bondye! -- mother of god
> 
> mwen woule -- I roll with it
> 
> Putain, c’est fou. -- Fuck, this is crazy.
> 
> Pósa kilá malákas íse? -- How many kilos of asshole are you?
> 
> petit chasseur -- little hunter 
> 
> And as always, comments are life :)


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